


i could do worse (you could do better)

by aswarmofbees



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, colorblind soulmates au, it's not focused heavily on, kikasa isn't a blatant thing tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aswarmofbees/pseuds/aswarmofbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first color Yoshitaka ever sees is the bright blue of Kasamatsu’s eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could do worse (you could do better)

**Author's Note:**

> me: has two stories that i need to update. also me: writes an entirely different fic instead. this was originally an idea that barely had much writing to it, and it was kikasa (ofc). but then i added to it, and it slowly became unrequited morikasa instead w kikasa being endgame??? and then it was like 10 pages long??? and there were numbers everywhere??????? why
> 
> (i actually have 2 wips of morikasa bc i am a Sinner. they total at a whopping ~10k words smh. goes to show how much i write smhx2)

_1._

The first color Yoshitaka ever sees is the bright blue of Kasamatsu’s eyes.

“My dad said I get them from my mom, but it’s not like I could _tell_ ,” Kasamatsu had said when they first met, offhandedly and fairly uninterested. “This whole, colorblind until you meet your true soulmate stuff is--weird.”

Yoshitaka forgets how to breathe, choking on his lungs while Kasamatsu explains the hue of his hair, his eyes, his skin, like his father had told him since he couldn’t see for himself. He wants to say he knows, god he _knows,_ he can see it right now, clear as day, like he hasn’t already been color blind his whole life. He opens his mouth to blurt the good news--

“What color are your eyes?”

Ah.

His heart breaks just a little inside his chest, chips against his ribcage and leaves the other pieces stuck in his lungs. So Kasamatsu looks at him and still sees black and white, then.

Apparently not all soulmates are destined for each other.

 

_2._

Like everyone says, he starts to fall _after_ he sees his soulmate in color, slowly but surely.

From the distance, he’d already thought Kasamatsu was a pretty cool guy, tough as nails and an amazing leader, the kind of big brother to everyone he only sees in manga and books. He starts off mistaking that awe and adoration for love.

But it’s when he discovers how soft and pliable his heart really is, made from gold, that he really ends up tripping over his feet. It’s when he sees Kasamatsu, in his second year, protecting baby-faced first-year Hayakawa after being teased for his speech impediment, stands in front of him like a guard dog with his teeth bared. It’s when he stays after school to practice like it’s going out of style, like he’ll reach professional levels when he’s only sixteen. It’s when he tumbles into a mess of flushed cheeks and flickering eyes as he tries to avoid any kind of contact with girls.

(It’s when he cries, loud and vulnerable, in the gym after his missed pass in the tournament, basketball tucked against his chest like it’ll never be any further from his heart, no matter how hard he tries.)

Yoshitaka tries to stand firm on his own with his two left feet, tries not to fumble into this mess of emotions and _love_ when his fate has already been written out for him, without his signature of approval.

But then he’ll see Kasamatsu smile, small and timid and _happy,_ and he falls painfully onto his face, bruising his knees as he goes.

He covers his wounds and gets back up.

 

_2.5_

(Yoshitaka slips up sometimes, luckily only in the presence of good company, good friends. “I’m at the cafe with the big pink sign, it’s right on the corner of--oh.”

“Moriyama? You can see--?”

“I looked it up online!” he hurries to defend with a shrill laugh. “They said their selling feature was their big pink sign, so--”

No one tends to question him. He’s both bitter and thankful for it.)

 

_3._

He never tells him.

He doesn’t tell Yukio that his eyes are like jewels, bright and stunning against the storm of gray sprinkled against his pupils, or that his hair is almost black, but shines a bit like a deep brown in the right light. His skin is a rich tan, darkened from too many days in the sun as well as being inherited from his even darker mother, and there are brown, sun-burned freckles stained against the bridge of his nose.

He _definitely_ doesn’t tell him that his cheeks brighten to a vivid red when he’s flustered, peppers his cheeks, nose and ears in the most endearing, uneven tones of scarlet. It’s blotchy and colorful and _beautiful._

He doesn’t say ‘thank you’ to him for letting his world bleed into stunning hues he’s never seen before, like the velvety swirls of pink and red and orange in the sky when the sun sets. He sees the deep blue of their Kaijou uniforms when all most others see are a slightly darker gray, and the pride that surges through him is different from everyone else’s.

He doesn’t say thank you, because he’s also not very thankful that it takes falling in love with someone whose heart is black-and-white and barricaded shut, just to see his world in color.

(But then he’ll catch the shimmer of his eyes, sharp at the edges but soft and warm just the same, and thinks, _Oh, I guess I kind of don’t mind._ )

 

_4._

Though he tells Kouji, one day.

Smiles and says, “I’ve never known Japanese people could have eyes as blue as Kasamatsu’s,” and prays he doesn’t have to spell it out. The rest of his words are already caught, tight and burning, in his throat.

Kouji catches on easily enough, thankfully.

So he cries, he cries, he cries harder than he ever has before, (loud and vulnerable), while Kouji fumbles to catch the shards of his heart he’s tossing around. He’s held all this in for far too long, and it’s hard to keep anything back, let alone organized.

Kouji, the kind friend he is, tries to ease the heartbreak flooding out of his pores, blankets his skin with _I’m so sorry_ and _You never told anyone?_ and _Does_ he _know that you--?_ and--

_“How long?”_

Yoshitaka smiles over his trembling mouth as a sob presses against his neck, and tastes the saltiness of his cracked lips.

“From the first day I met him, I guess.”

Kouji soothes and nurses him, all long arms that know perfectly how to hug, how to help, and lets him cry until his eyes burn dry. He says he’ll keep it a secret if it’s what Yoshitaka needs, says _Maybe you should tell him?,_  says that Yoshitaka can come to him whenever he wants, he’ll always be there. He jokes that he’d better gather some big secret himself and unlock it just for Yoshitaka, just so they can be even.

As hard as Kouji tries, none of it makes him love Yukio any less.

 

_6._

He survives, though. He aches and hurts and craves and longs and wishes and regrets and attempts to hate but--there’s no more room for hate in his heart, not when it’s already packed full of everything else in there.

He _survives._

 

_5._

But he always thought it’d be different when he finally fell in love. When he first pondered it, clamored around past friends whose faces he can’t remember just right, he said he already knew who it’d be.

“She’ll have long, brown hair, and definitely pretty brown eyes!” he’d said, a grin curled smugly over his lips. “I’ll, of course, be taller than her, but she won’t be short! And she’ll be sweet and cute, and make us food all the time, and--”

They’d all rolled their eyes at him, and even _they_ knew that love always came in the most unexpected of places. Love didn’t have a face, or dark lashes, or a smile that dimpled one cheek and not the other. Love didn’t loudly announce itself, didn’t barge into his house exclaim, “I’m here! Hello! Look at me!” Love wasn’t a perfectly angled photo tucked tight against a picture frame, its time and date and exact details scribbled against the back. Love was--

(To himself, sometimes he imagined his soulmate as a ‘he’, of a pretty boy with long lashes and hands as soft as his smile. But even in this world of predestined soulmates that bypassed society’s rule of genders, he was still supposed to long for _girls._ He wasn’t allowed to think of boys, too, no matter what.

No matter how much he liked them, too.)

Love was an _idiot._

 

_7._

“His hair is blond,” Yukio says, breathless.

Yoshitaka swivels his head to face him. They’re in the office of the gym, having been told to watch videos of these ‘Generation of Miracles’ and seeing which ones they think they can scout for the upcoming year. As dysfunctional as they all are, they’re still damn good players, and it’d be great to have one of them on their team.

 

_0._

Yukio never cared for the whole ‘life in color soulmates’ ordeal, and made it known every time the topic came up. “How can you love someone when you don’t even know them? It makes no sense,” he’d grunted out as another pair of high-schoolers saw each other in color.

Sometimes he argues, says (from _experience_ that Yukio is unaware of) that, “Well, it’s after you find them in color that you really start to fall in love. It’s not like, love at first sight or anything.”

Every time it drags Yukio’s mood down, so he usually just drops it and lets the poor guy grumble to himself. “The idea of being predestined for a specific person, out of billions of people is--stupid.

“I don’t think my sight should control who I love.”

Yoshitaka is inclined to agree.

 

_7._

Confused, Yoshitaka stares at his friend and unrequited soulmate. His eyes are stretched wide, thick eyebrows high on his forehead. “Yeah, it says so in his file, along with everything else--”

“No.” Yukio swallows. “His hair is _blond._ ”

It takes Yoshitaka a few more moments to understand. _Oh._ “You--you mean--?”

He silently nods, eyes glued to the screen, more specifically the pretty player with the number 8 stamped across his jersey. He’s the one who proclaims to not be as amazing at the others, but from the way he moves, the way he stands with a strong form and piercing eyes, he’s definitely much, _much_ better than he says he is.

He catches Yukio’s attention for sure.

Yoshitaka chokes on a laugh, and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

He’s proud of himself managing to hold back, for waiting until he’s out of sight to splash his tears and muffled sobs into the sink. Is it his fault? Is he just incapable of being loved? How did Yukio see in color for someone else, but not _him?_ Why? Why, why, _why whywhywhywhy--_

_Why couldn’t Yukio just fucking love him back?_

When he returns, Yukio is still focused intently on the screen, and Yoshitaka regrets ever knowing the exact color of his eyes.

 

_8._

Yukio thinks he’s being casual when he asks to accompany the coach to one of Teikou’s games, to see them all up close, _I just want to know who we might be dealing with,_ but Yoshitaka knows better.

It’s obvious to him that despite how much Yukio has stubbornly brushed aside any idea of seeing in color, of finding The One, that he’s at least curious. Unlike himself, Yukio immediately tells his two closest friends, and if other friends ask him, he’ll grunt out that he can see in color now.

At their wide, amazed eyes, and the flurry of questions about what it’s like, who it is, he says that he doesn’t care. Colors are amazing, but he has no plans of pursuing The One.

Yoshitaka tries not to be, but he’s _glad._

 

_9._

“Y--You’re my soulmate!” is the very first thing Kise blurts when he sees Yukio in front of him. His eyes are wide and shocked, likely from his world finally draining of the usual shades of gray.

“Yes,” he says, like it’s only the weather they’re talking about, “now what is your name, school, and position--”

“But--” Kise flounders, eyes wide and mouth flapping. The students around them are stunned as well, whispering and looking between the two in disbelief. “But aren’t you--excited? I mean, we’re still so young but we already found each other--”

Yoshitaka snorts when Yukio kicks him. Kise yelps in surprise. “If this is your attempt to try and get on this team, you’re only succeeding in pissing me off.”

Kise sputters, and doesn’t seem to know what to say.

 _Yeah,_ Yoshitaka thinks, ignoring the way his heart aches, _you’re in for a wild ride with him, Kise._

 

_10._

Kise is seriously annoying.

As he chatters happily with some second-years, Yoshitaka glares from the distance. It’s lacking subtly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

(Kouji watches him from across the gym, concern casting a light shine to his eyes.)

Kise does absolutely nothing to hide his interest in Yukio either, much to the disdain (and occasional amusement) of everyone around. He stands close enough for their arms to constantly brush, hugs him every time he can get away with it, and does it even when he can’t. He talks to him _excessively,_ and badgers Yukio to hang out with him whenever possible, among so much else.

Yoshitaka bites the inside of his cheek and silently bristles.

But that’s just Kise playing with the idea of love, of a soulmate he can truly call his own. It isn’t overly serious, at first.

Then he really starts to fall, and this time it’s Yoshitaka watching from the sidelines.

Kise is just as open about his adoration over his captain, but he’s more visibly affected than before. When Yukio praises him, Kise flushes like he never has before; when he ruffles his long blond hair, Kise keeps his head ducked for a few moments longer to hide the warm smile against his lips; when Yukio smiles, Yoshitaka can see the look of panic across his face, like everyone will somehow hear the sudden thundering of his poor, love-struck heart.

He sees pieces of himself in Kise, and pities him just a bit.

 

_11._

“Why do you hate me, Moriyama-senpai?”

Yoshitaka reels back like he’s been hit. “What?” he says (snaps), and realizes his harsh tone. He feels a little bad, but not completely. “I don’t hate you?”

Kise frowns, brows furrowing together. “You--It feels like you really do.” With hurt in his eyes as he looks at him, he trudges on. “Did I do something wrong?”

His heart clenches. He must really be obvious if Kise is inclined to approach the topic. What a shitty senpai he is. “I don’t hate you,” he repeats. Kise opens his mouth to reply, but Yoshitaka doesn’t let him speak. “I apologize for making you feel that way.”

 _You took him from me, without even trying,_ he thinks bitterly, irrationally. He doesn’t consider that Kise can’t take what he doesn’t already have. _I’ve been in love with him for_ so long, _and suddenly you come by and--_

“Is it about Kasamatsu-senpai?”

He jerks back and his mouth drops, thoughts scattering. Does he know? How does he know? Is he being _that_ obvious? Did Kouji--? “Did Kobori tell you?” he blurts back before he can stop himself.

He might imagine the victorious shine in Kise’s eye. “It is about Kasamatsu-senpai?” He digs his heel into the open wound. “Do you see him in colo--?”

“Stop talking,” Yoshitaka bites back. Some of Kise’s bravado shrinks, but he still stands firm. “It’s seriously none of your business.”

“But senpai--”

“Drop it.”

“--how do you know that he has gray in his eyes?”

Yoshitaka swallows the anxiety and frustration (and _fear_ ) brimming in his throat. “Because--” _because he’s my soulmate but I’m not his, because it’s the first thing I noticed when I saw him in color, because his eyes are one of my favorite things about him, because_ “--his mom told me. He takes after her. Now would you _stop prying?_ ”

Kise doesn’t believe him. Yoshitaka would be surprised if he actually did.

Kise drops it. He says “I’m sorry,” with far too much pity in his eyes, and lets it go. He drops it on the ground and turns to leave after a polite bow, and it’s again Yoshitaka’s responsibility to pick everything up.

It’s not a mess he feels like cleaning.

 

_12._

Yoshitaka is forced to watch as Yukio eventually falls in love.

It takes some time, (“Nearly a year, senpai!” Kise whines some time later, their palms pressed together) but he trips over his feet for Kise eventually. Yoshitaka knows that Yukio is harboring a crush before he realizes it himself, and makes sure to tease him about after he tucks his own unrequited love somewhere behind his heart.

It clicks for him somewhere around graduation, which is _terrible_ timing, considering Kise started pining (genuinely pining, not ‘you’re my soulmate and I’ll start off forcing myself to like you’ pining) not even a month after Yukio met him and mercilessly knocked him off his embroidered Miracle pedestal.

Yukio bravely confesses to him before he starts university, but it takes some convincing on his and Kouji’s part. He somehow thinks it’s unrequited _(hah)_ , despite having Kise literally _declare that he’ll happily spend time with a soulmate like him_ , and it’s painful to watch. Yukio is so oblivious it hurts.

Although, if he wasn’t, Yoshitaka probably would have been figured out a long time ago. So he’s a little thankful.

“I at least wasn’t as bad as Kise, yeah?”

Kouji laughs. “No, you weren’t as bad as he was--is.”

At least there’s that.

 

_12.5_

(As Yukio falls for another, Yoshitaka’s vision reverts to black-and-white. He misses the color of Yukio’s eyes more than anything else.)

 

_13._

He’s happy for Yukio, he really, genuinely is. For someone who’s been so bitter over the concept of soulmates, he’s truly fallen for his own. It takes some time, but--now Yukio’s the happiest he’s ever been.

They don’t actually start ‘dating’ until Kise graduates, “Because I’m not going to be in a relationship with a high-schooler, you’re only sixteen still, you should mature some more and think about it, and it’s going to be long distance so that’s already another issue, and what about your paparazzi…” Kise says he’s being unfair, but Yukio stands firm.

Kise waits for him. He says he’ll wait forever for him, if that’s what it takes. Yoshitaka is upset that he can no longer see the red flush of his cheeks from that.

And sometimes, Yoshitaka wishes he’d been brave enough to tell Yukio, wishes he’d confessed and somehow, some way, tried to start something with his friend even if fate called ‘bullshit’ in the background. He wishes he’d had more courage, wishes he--

…wishes he never had to fall in love with him in the first place.

(He wishes it was _him.)_

 

_15._

He’s been working hard on letting go, moving on.

Lost in his thoughts, he accidentally bumps into someone on the sidewalk. “Sorry,” he mumbles. It’s snowing out still, and he regrets not grabbing a pair of gloves before heading out to shop.

He’s about to hop onto the bus when they stop him, voice light and confused. “Excuse me, do you happen to know how long it takes to get to the next stop?”

“Ah, yeah,” he replies, moving to turn around. “It’s usually not long, maybe five, ten minutes at mo--”

Yoshitaka drops the bag of groceries he’s carrying, staring into the wide eyes of the person now in front of him.

Their hair is brown.

**Author's Note:**

> i realized way after that no 7 was when i introduced kise, which is wild bc he’s number seven on kaijou and i didn’t even plan it that way. that was supposed to be like, scene 5 but then i wrote too much and it worked out??? amazing
> 
> also this story seems to read better if u say the numbers in ur head when u read it idk it just sounds cooler to me
> 
> also!! 5&6 are out of order intentionally, as is the skip from 13 to 15


End file.
